


Bored with Your Job? Want to Travel the World?

by Dryad



Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, Come on, I mean, M/M, Only One Good Ep of the Six, Season 10 Doesn't Exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:59:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: There were days when he just wanted it all to be over. Days when he thought to himself, When is it going to end? When do I get the chance to do something else? When will someone worry about what happens tome?





	Bored with Your Job? Want to Travel the World?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts).



"Christ, we were so fuckin' young," mused Danny, leaning back on two legs of his chair, smoking a cigarillo and staring at the sea.

Alex snorted, turning his attention from Danny to the play of orange light on the water. The sunsets over Baja California were stunning, no matter what time of year. The second storey restaurant they were at now, with this balcony overlooking part of the town as the hill fell away to the ocean, leaving an amazing view of the Pacific, was a little gem. It was past time for him to move on, but goddamnit he was old and tired and he deserved a chance to rest his goddamned feet. Besides, he'd known Danny for a long time, though this was the first time they had met face to face in person. Danny was older, too, a scar on his cheek from the car accident that had nearly killed him, skin deeply tanned from years under the Mexican sun, hair blonde-white from his daily surf. His accent had gotten even stranger, the half British diction, half American vowels now flavored with Spanish. Danny had had a good life, was what Alex thought. Danny hadn't always been on the run, had he, living with the constant fear of betrayal, the fervent wondering if he should be taking some other tack, instead of the one he was currently on. Hindsight was always twenty twenty, wasn't that how it went?

"You still in there?" Danny asked, waving the bottom of his beer bottle at Alex.

"Yeah, yeah. Just thinking about the past."

"Tell me about it. You think this is what they imagined, when they planned all this out years ago?"

"Nah. They weren't as prescient as they imagined," said Alex. "All the knowledge in the world and they still didn't see the rise of the internet, the crumbling of Democracy, the rise of India or Germany or Japan."

"They feared China, though."

"Sure. Mao was always protectionist, more concerned with the inner State than what was happening outside."

"Said they weren't prescient, not stupid."

"Wisely so," answered Alex, leaning on the table with his elbow, the fake wood weirdly smooth under his skin. He listened to a sudden pop of gunfire, waited for more before continuing on. "China, Germany, they were always going to be big players. The big surprise was the crumbling of the Soviet Union. Who ever thought that was happen," he said morosely. Certainly not Pops, and definitely not himself. And wasn't that a turn up for the books? The state he had given everything to, his girlfriend, his fucking arm - gone in a heartbeat. Now that singularly tremendous asshole was in power, an asshole who had no interest in the public good unless it lined his own pocket - . 

Bastard.

"So what's next on your agenda? Gonna head back North?"

Alex shrugged. "Don't know, yet. Gotta get a new arm - "

"From Juan Carlos?"

"Fuck no, Alicia does the best work."

Danny raised a skeptical eyebrow, but what he didn't know just how skint Alex was. Danny had offered dinner and Alex had taken it up without hesitation. Never turn down the chance of food, that had become his motto since the collapse of the Group. Marita had always been good for money, but that train had left the station a long time ago. He should probably find out if she was still alive, he owed her that much. Not that he felt guilty for how their relationship had ended, business was business, and his business was survival. She had suffered because of him...yeah, she deserved his help. She had earned it.

"If you say so," Danny came down with a thump, added his bottle to the four empties already on the table. "Well, old son, it's been a night."

"Thanks for dinner.'

Danny clapped a heavy hand on Alex's shoulder. "Good seeing you, man. Drop by the next time you're in town, yeah?"

Alex nodded, though he had no intention of doing so. 

As soon as Danny passed through the beaded curtain, Alex headed for the railing. As he had suspected, there was a narrow alley running directly below the balcony, its dimensions contained between the wall of the building and the wall separating it from the neighborhood beyond. The wall wasn't too tall; rather, it was too tall for the average man to climb up, even jumping, but certainly not fatal if a careful person were to, say, jump on top of it. And if the person missed the wall, it would be easy enough to reach the roof of the one storey home beyond. In fact, there was a lake of red tiled roofs, he had his pick.

Though the restaurant had been busy when he and Danny arrived for dinner, they were immediately shown to the balcony. Danny clearly was a frequent visitor, to keep the balcony clear from other customers. Alex wasn't terribly familiar with Mexican culture, yet he had never known Danny to be a wealthy man, and a permanent reservation in such a prime location - yeah, he didn't think so. 

Alex glanced over his shoulder and saw a wave of heads turning towards the entrance of the restaurant, which was out of his line of sight, and decided it would be a fantastic time to dine and dash. He sat on the balcony and carefully put one leg over the top, then the other, holding on tight with his hand. Despite after all the years to get used to it, he missed his arm. Even the weight of a prosthetic would be better for his balance at this moment in time. Which was ridiculous to think of now, but there it was, the always inconvenient thought on the matter. There really was no time to waste; he could hear a woman loudly protesting in the dining room, and, ignoring the possibility of anyone walking below, sprang off the balcony towards the wall. 

He landed awkwardly, slapping his hand on the wall and gripping tightly even though pain lanced through his palm. 

_"Fuck!"_ he whispered, tears springing to his eyes. Blinking the extra water away, his eyes adjusted to the sudden twilight - the sun was halfway below the horizon now, and in addition, a chimney blocked the light right where he had landed. As he looked along the top of the wall, he saw what he had missed before: the sunset reflecting off the shards of broken glass cemented into the top of the wall. Smart, very smart. One way to keep people like him out of the ol' family compound. He laughed humorlessly, got his feet underneath himself and dropped into the alley to scurry underneath the balcony. It wasn't as dark as he would have preferred, nonetheless, it was better than being in the open. 

There was a flurry of muted, rapid Spanish above him, much of which sounded excited and irritated. It wouldn't take long for them to find out where he was, not long at all. He wasted no time trotting down the alley once he could no longer hear the Federales or criminales or whomever they were. Shame Danny had ratted him out. On the plus side, the Federales would be equally annoyed, so at least he was saved a bullet.

At the end of the alley Alex slowed and looked to his left, just in time to see a man fly backwards from the stairwell leading to the restaurant. The man landed hard on the cobblestones, his hat flying aross the zocalo. Alex promptly turned to the right and made his best attempt at a stroll, even though his heart was pounding and a bead of sweat was rolling down his temple, because yeah, while he enjoyed warm weather and skimpily dressed men and women, he was Russian to the core and cold weather was simply more his thing.

A man yelled behind him. Alex didn't stop. Didn't even slow down. Put his hand in his jeans pocket, wished he was wearing chinos, instead, because the pockets were a damned sight roomier. He closed his fist around the switchblade and hoped as hard as he could that the yell-er didn't catch up to him. If that happened, well, he'd be forced to defend himself, wouldn't he, and then he would be caught by the police and Marita wasn't there any longer to bail him out. He breathed through his mouth to get enough oxygen, because he felt a little light-headed, adrenalin pouring through him like water into a glass.

He heard the slap of sandals against the cobblestone and tensed - then the runner was past him, arms pumping madly as he tried to escape the mob of men following. Could be Federales, could be Sicarios. As long as they left him alone, Alex could care less which was which. He continued down the street from the zocalo, taking deep breaths to stem the rising panic. The question now was, where to go? Danny had picked Alex up at the hostel where he had taken lodging, and everything Danny did was now compromised, the stupid fucker. 

"Hope you're happy now, asshole," muttered Alex. Now that he was feeling less pressured, the pain in his hand really began to hit. His palm burned and pulsed. Happily, he did have a spare handkerchief in his back pocket - Pops was right, handkerchiefs came in surprisingly handy when you needed one.

There were still plenty of people about on the streets so he didn't stop, merely wrapped the handkerchief around his hand and pretended nothing was wrong. It seemed to work, no one gave him the hairy eyeball. 

So. Where was he going to go. Clearly getting a new prosthetic was off the table for the immediate future, and he didn't dare consult either Alicia or Juan Carlos for the next best alternative. In fact, he didn't even dare go near the Consulate - they would be watching. With that in mind, Alex headed towards the main mercado. It should still be busy enough for him to hang around without being noticed as anything other than a tourist, and having just eaten, he didn't need to bother anyone about food. Drink, maybe. He had a bit of money on him, US dollars and a roll of pesos, a few centavos that he'd stuck in his pocket without thinking about it.

He followed his mental map of the city and got to the mercado via the back streets, skirting neighborhoods that had the air of danger about them. Which was funny. 

There were plenty of tourists in the mercado, which was great, he fit right in. He strolled over to the fountain and swished both hands around in the water, loosening the blood that had dried and rinsing away some of the larger clots that had formed. A close inspection revealed a long gash, but despite the amount of blood - despite the blood soaking the handkerchief, it wasn't all that deep. 

Too bad he didn't know any local doctors, he'd get stitches. As it was...well. Nothing a little superglue wouldn't close. He wandered around the open stalls of the mercado and found none, though he did buy two squares of dark cotton with which he could wrap his hand. Having a little wander down the side streets only proved here were no corner stores near the mercado, leaving him only one option.

"Excuse me," Alex said with a smile, approaching a lone woman wearing two back packs, one on her back, the other strapped in front of her chest. "You wouldn't happen to have any superglue, would you?"

She eyed him cautiously - he approved - and stepped away, shaking her head.

"Okay, thanks anyway," he said, mentally cursing her at the same time. Why couldn't people be simple and have the things he needed, when he needed them? Why did people have to be so difficult? He saw a family of four walking through across the square, all of them with backpacks as well as rolling suitcases, and hastened to catch up to them.

"Excuse me!" he called, trotting over to them, waving madly before he thought better of it.

"Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I was wondering if you had any superglue?" he rushed the question, because as soon as he drew near he understood he had chosen the wrong people. They might be dressed as tourists, and maybe to those who weren't paying attention they could even pass as tourists, but the looks in their eyes - Alex tried to think of a way of getting out of the situation without drawing attention to himself.

Firstly, the man was tall and broad and looked at Alex with narrowed eyes and a pursed mouth. The woman next to him was definitely European, she had that air, and though she glanced at the man before looking directly at Alex, he realized she was dangerous, too: she just didn't know it yet. The teenagers next to the woman were quiet and watchful, too quiet and watchful. Alex shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Sorry, I know it's an imposition to ask," he held up his hand briefly, grateful he'd thought to wash it. "It's just that I'm out of bandaids and I don't trust anyone to sew me up. Superglue always does in a pinch. I mean, Dermablend is better, but I don't see any cosmetic surgeons around here, do you?"

The man's gaze shifted to behind Alex. _Oh shit -_

Knowing his grin was more of a rictus, Alex got ready to throw a punch and quickly turned around, only to huff a shocked laugh a moment later. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Mulder took him by his remaining upper arm and forced him to the nearest building, only a few steps away. "I could ask you the same thing," he hissed.

Over Mulder's shoulder, Alex could see the family watching, drawing closer like a moth to a flame. "Hey man, I'm just looking for some superglue. Right, guys?"

"That's right," said the man softly, staring at Mulder. "That's all he wanted."

"For his hand," the woman muttered.

Hunh. The man was spoke accented English, as did the woman, but her accent was German flavored, a currywurst topped with salsa and sprinkled with British English, while his was simply Mexican.

"Why them?" barked Mulder, pushing Alex hard in the shoulder. "Do you know who they are?"

"Jesus Christ, I just saw them for the first time a minute ago!" Alex protested. Christ, he was tired of Mulder's shit. Despite what Mulder thought, he was not the personal savior of the entire human race. "Do you have it or not? Because if not, I gotta run."

"You're not going anywhere, Krycek," said Mulder, his grip turning to iron. "You're coming with us."

"Is that wise, Mr. Mulder?" asked the woman, hurrying alongside Mulder, her luggage making a racket as it rolled. "Should we not leave this person to their own devices?"

"I appreciate the sentiment," Mulder steered Alex towards the left, down yet another narrow alley where they would barely be seen in the partial light of of the mercado's street lamps. "But I've know this man for a long time. He killed Scully's sister - "

"Hey, I had nothing to do with that, nothing at all."

"Yeah, sure. There's nothing you wouldn't do for the almighty dollar, nothing you wouldn't do to save your own skin."

"Get off your high horse, Mulder," panted Alex, finally out of steam, because he was old and injured and on the run and all he wanted to do was sleep for about a million years. "Like you're not doing the same."

"In here," Mulder pushed open a small door set in a tall wall of corrugated steel, which in turn was set in the wall of a multi-story building. Beyond was a small yard overrun with potted plants, every single available space filled with them. Alex could tell, because the space was well lit with what the Brits called 'fairy lights'. The effect was stunning; even the stalks of green corn looked exotic. There was a table and several mis-matched wooden chairs, a grill and a chiminea.

It was very pretty, though he did have a moment's thought as to whether or not actual Mexicans lived here. Or maybe that was just his preconceived notions of who could do what and really why was he even thinking about that when Fox Mulder had a hold of his arm?

God, he was tired. At least Mulder was predictable.

"Everybody in, quick," said Mulder, releasing Alex with a little shove towards one of the chairs. 

Alex stumbled over nothing and took a set by the chimenea. Now that he was in better light he could see that the family was indeed a family, the teenagers a clear mix between the two parents. They scurried in while Mulder bolted the door shut. Alex was amused by how they stood a little bit away from him, the one armed man. Even Mulder, now staring at him with his hands on his hips, looked at him like he was a bomb about to go off.

"Krycek, what are you doing here?"

Alex stretched his legs out, crossed his ankles like he was at his ease. It would drive Mulder nuts, even if it was a lie. "Just schlepping around. You?"

Mulder snorted, didn't break eye contact. "A bit of the same. Taking my friends shopping for new luggage."

"Taking a trip?"

"Always. You?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm where I need to be."

Mulder nodded slightly. "Doesn't seem like your friends are all that interested in helping you out these days."

"Friends come and go."

Mulder nodded again, more slowly. 

"Agent Mulder, perhaps you could tell us what's going to happen next?" said the family man, eyeing Alex as he spoke.

"The plans haven't changed at all, Major. We stay here until Scully calls, and then go from there."

Major? Shit. Alex gathered his feet underneath himself, told himself it was only matter of time and then he'd run out of here like nothing on earth could stop him. It was almost the truth..

"Why don't you take your family upstairs and get settled. Don't answer the phone," Mulder said, motioning towards the door to Alex's right. "Krycek and I have to have a little chat."

"Lina, take the chidren with you," replied the Major, looking at Alex with the expression of a man about to do something distasteful.

Well, it wasn't like Alex had never been on the receiving end of a reluctant torturer before. 

Lina glanced at the Major only briefly before herding the two teenagers through the door. She closed it behind them without looking at Alex at all. Yes, it was difficult to be party to such a thing when you weren't used to it. But people could get used to anything, given enough time and motivation.

"Major - "

The Major quieted Mulder with a slash of his hand in the air. "This is my family, Agent Mulder, and if this man has put them in danger, then I need to be here to listen to what he has to say."

Mulder's mouth tightened. "Krycek, do you know the Major?"

Alex looked him over carefully. The Major was one of those men who could pass as being from one of several countries. He had a long, thin face and a rather Don Quixote-esque mustachse and short, clipped beard. He was pale enough to be European, and dark enough to be someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He was dressed in tan slacks, good leather shoes, a long sleeved blue Oxford with the top button undone. In short, every business man on vacation, ever. On the other hand, he did actually look a little familiar. "He's not one of mine, but I'm sure he's in a file," Alex looked him over head to foot once again, jerked his chin up at him. "You in the Army?"

"Federale," replied the Major.

"Ulises Diaz Pena," said Mulder, coming forward to stand next to the Major, his arms folded. "We're taking him North."

Alex shook his head, bemused. Mulder was so predictable. "You watch too many movies. You're the hero, always telling the bad guys what you're going to do."

"So you're the bad guy, now?" 

"No," said Alex, all humor fled. "No, I'm the guy trying to save the human race, in case you've forgotten."

"That's what they all say," answered the Major. 

"Yeah, well, you don't know the half of it," Alex straightened in his chair. He looked at Mulder. "Take me with you."

Mulder grinned. "What?"

"I need to get over the border, I have contacts."

Diaz Pena looked askance at Mulder and flicked a finger at Alex's hand. "I doubt his 'contacts' can be trusted."

He had a point. Alex licked his lips and leaned towards Mulder earnestly. "Look, I know I've been compromised, but I can tell you who to avoid and who to trust. Some parts of the old network are still in place, just with new players who don't know me -"

"I'll bet they know of you, though," murmured Mulder. 

"Maybe, maybe not. My point is that I'm less a risk than you think. I'll even call a truce on it. Get me north of the border and all bets are off, but until then, we're a team."

Mulder surged towards Alex, bending down to hiss at him face to face. "Team? The last time we were a 'team' you had those things put into Scully's neck! You fu-"

Alex jerked back as Mulder came at him, and as his chair threatened to tip over backwards, he went forward instead, meeting Mulder halfway and sending them both sprawling onto the tiled floor. Mulder was on him in an instant, rolling him over easily, as if Alex was twig. 

"You shut the fuck up," Mulder spat, pinning Alex down by the shoulders, trapping his legs painfully by kneeling over his thighs. "I'll use you, you bet I fucking will, but we're not a team, we'll never be a team, and if Scully puts a bullet in your head when she sees you, I won't be sorry."

"Yeah alright, fine," Alex breathed, a little undone by Mulder's intensity. They hadn't exactly been moving in the same circles over the past few years, yet Alex had heard a little of what Mulder and Scully had been through, and it wasn't pretty.

None of it was pretty.

A cell phone trilled, breaking the moment, for which Alex was grateful. Mulder had bulked up since their last interaction, even though he appeared to be the same slim man as before. Clearly Mulder's resources were better than Alex's own. There were days when he could hardly get out of bed, never mind go to a gym. Mulder got off him to answer the phone, leaving Alex to slowly sit up and rub the back of his head where it had hit the tiles. Nothing broken. At least the pain distracted him from his hand, which...it was a short lived distraction.

Alex picked himself up and went back to his chair, mindful of Diaz Pena. So tired. And hungry, despite having eaten only what, an hour ago? Maybe less?

"Yeah, okay," said Mulder, his back to Alex. "I've picked up some extra baggage…just one. How long…Be careful..." Mulder chuckled, hung up. He turned around, eyed Alex. "We've got a few hours. Let's bring this inside."

Alex was just fine being inside the house, which was bright and colorful and kind of gave him a headache in its catalog-worthy commercial beauty. Didn't have the feel of being lived in, either, which suggested a vacation home for some rich American slumming it in a foreign country. On the other hand, at least he had a couch to sit on that was a hell of a lot more comfortable than that bare wooden chair. The teenagers were watching football highlights, Copa America or something, lots of players he didn't recognize. He savored the normality of food cooking, the low murmur of conversation from another room, the dull roar of the crowd from the tv, Mulder's silent presence somewhere to his left. Exhaustion hit him hard and he briefly closed his eyes, only to startle awake a moment later when the teens shouted 'goal', Latin American style. He sat up straighter in an effort to rouse himself, yawned immediately thereafter. Elbow on the arm of the sofa, he rested his chin on the heel of his palm, but all too soon his eyelids drooped and for a little while, all he was aware of were the quiet background noises of people who didn't seem likely to kill him in the next little while.

"Krycek."

Alex registered the faint voice, turned towards the cushion and burrowed in.

"Krycek. Alex."

"Should we tie him up?"

"Just let him sleep," someone said, someone who sounded like Fox Mulder, which was ridiculous, Mulder wouldn't let Alex sleep if the fate of the world hung on his shoulders. Alex ignored the voice and snuggled deeper into the bed. He was warm, he was in pain but not enough to make him get up and do something about it, he was mostly comfortable. He was getting hungry...hunger could wait for a little while longer. For now, all he knew was that he was safe.

 

~*~

The tv was still on, muted, when Alex woke. His eyelids were sticky and his breath sour, and dear god the crick in his neck was unbelievable. There had to be aspirin or ibuprofen or its equivalent around here somewhere. He slowly sat up, rolled his head on his shoulders, up and down and back and forth until the tension in his neck and upper back eased. Right. He needed the toilet.

Mulder was in the kitchen, making coffee. Spying Alex, he jerked his head towards the hallway on Alex's right and then opened the fridge. Okay, permission to move about granted. Besides, his shoes were missing. 

Alex hadn't seen much of the flat the previous evening, and he remained unimpressed. So much color, and not like Pops's house, either. Too many blocks of color, all fighting for the attention of the eyes. There were three doors open and one closed. Two bedrooms, the third presumably the reason for the quiet, where Diaz Pena and his family were sleeping. The final open door contained the bathroom, which Alex used with no little amount of relief. A dry bar of soap was on one of those little wooden drainer things on the edge of the sink, and, taking a hand towel and a wash cloth from the open basketry attached to the wall, he proceeded to freshen up. Wasn't much he could do without a change of clothes, but at least he no longer looked like a bum who'd been in a fistfight. Dried blood was damned scratchy, and when the hell had he cut his lip? Hell of thing. Hated that, the taste, the look, the soreness. Marita would have laughed and bit him harder, and he would have pushed her away rough, just how she liked it. Well. She'd liked it for awhile, anyway.

Ablutions completed, he wandered back to the living room and poured himself a cup of coffee, searched the cabinets for something to eat, rummaged through the fridge for the same. He didn't trust any of the things in containers, who knew how long they had been in the fridge and if they were science experiments or poisons meant for the likes of him or what. Just because something looked like a refried bean, didn't mean that it was a refried bean. Or kasha, for that matter. That had been a hard lesson, and definitely one to take to heart.

"There's masa in the container on the counter, if you know how to make tortillas," called Mulder, now sitting on the sofa with one ankle casually crossed over his knee. He wasn't even bothering to look at Alex, which annoyed him. He was a dangerous man, for fuck sakes, he deserved a little anxiety.

"Thanks, I'll leave it for the lady of the house to make," he said, perching on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "Women, right?"

"Yeah, right."

They fell into a companionable silence, just the tick of the mechanical clock on the old-fashioned electric stove keeping time as they waited for the call to come. Why was it always three am? 

"Do you know that in many cultures without hospital assistance, most births take place around this tome of the day?" said Mulder, neatly encapsulating exactly what Alex was feeling. "In fact, statistically, most animal births take place at this time of the night, or morning, as well."

Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That sounds like old-fashioned bullshit."

Mulder cocked his head to one side, then chuckled. "Yeah, probably is."

Maybe it was the soft lighting, the lateness of the hour, the flicker of the tv, Mulder's familiar presence. Maybe he just wanted to...maybe he just want to wallow in comfort for a little while. And 'comfort' wasn't even the right word. Alex snorted softly. It was a fucked up world where he felt more comfortable with an asshole like Mulder than with anyone else. Then again, for all his bluster, Mulder had yet to make a serious attempt at killing him, so, home sweet and all that. You couldn't pick your family, but you sure could pick your friends-that-might-or-might-not try to murder you right to your face.

"How's Marita?"

The question froze any pleasant thoughts towards Mulder Alex was having. How's Marita... "How's Marita? Dead, one way or another."

"What, really?"

Alex rolled his eyes. Iesu, Mulder was so damned gullible. "She might as well be. She lost her job after your trial. Now she works as a private consultant for international corporations."

"Sounds right up her alley."

"Best she's likely to get these days. "

Mulder looked over his shoulder at Alex. "I'm sure she's still putting money in her pension every month."

She was, but that wasn't the point. She sure as hell wasn't giving it to him. 

"She still part of your thing?"

"Sure."

"Not exactly a resounding yes, Krycek."

"Well, we can't all be…" he started, then trailed off.

She blamed him for what had happened to her. He shook his head, still irritated by her misplaced anger. 

"You wanted to be a player in the game," he had said, tossing a cheap, see-through red Bic lighter up and down. "It's too late to complain about the game at half-time when you were happy to leave the bench in the first place. "

Marita had stared at him incredulously. "A sports metaphor? That's all you've got for me?"

Flames shot out of the window of the building behind her and Alex backed up a few steps. "Sorry if it won't do."

"I've lost everything! Including my sanity!"

Hadn't they all. "We're still alive, so I call that a win-win."

"Oh my god, you don't even see the forest for the trees, do you?"

Alex had tired of the conversation and ended it by walking away, leaving her screaming at him impotently. The next time he had seen her had been on C-SPAN, testifying at a Congressional hearing about something or another. It hadn't been important to the cause, and now he no longer remembered what the circumstances of it had been in the first place.

"Thinking about Marita?" asked Mulder.

"You ever wonder what happens to the players? The ones who aren't dead, anyway," mused Alex, ignoring Mulder's question and moving back to the sofa. The opposite end from Mulder, obviously.

Mulder chuckled. "Y'mean, are they down and out, like us?" 

"Yeah, sure. I mean, is the guy who used to order hits now working the check out line at Safeway? Managing burger slingers at Mickey D's?"

"Cleaning pools in Hollywood?"

They shared an amused glance, but Mulder sobered before Alex was ready to move on.

"This is never going to be over, Alex. Not while I'm alive."

"It will be once you admit I'm right. You think everyone's going to thank you for your service, but the truth is that they don't care. They want their fancy 4D ultra k tvs and their Kardashians and the distraction of all of it. They stick their fingers in their ears at the mentions of rising oceans and constant tornadoes. Easier to think about what's for dinner than the fate of the species."

Mulder stared at Alex, eyes wide. 

"What?"

"You sound disheartened."

Alex shrugged. He was aware he no longer had the same passion and belief that he once did. Oh, he still believed in the cause, hell, wasn't he trying to revive it right now? He was tired, and the cause had cost him nearly everything, too. But he was still alive, right?

"If I knew then, what I know now..." murmured Mulder. After a moment he rose and went in to the kitchen, came back with two ice-cold bottles of beer, offering one to Alex. At Alex's look, he said, "Ran an errand while you were sleeping."

The beer was cold and wet and surprisingly not awful. He drank it because it was.... Give him vodka any day of th week instead. He could drink it like a fish and suffer little ill effect, but beer...beer was horror incarnate. He drank it anyway.

They sat in silence for some few minutes, listening to distant traffic, the occasional scooter passing on the street. Alex wasn't sure what to say. "It's been a long time, Mulder. What've you been up to since you left the Bureau?"

Mulder's eyebrows shot up. "You don't know?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Believe it or not, you're not my top priority."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Alex raised his bad shoulder. "Like I'm missing a limb."

Mulder contemplated his shoes, frowning. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Right. This was turning all very surreal. His enemy - who was still his enemy - was also his friend? "Shit happens."

"What are you really doing here, Alex?"

Okay then. Might as well go with the flow. "Came to get a new arm. Three D prosthetic. Clinics here are, well, y'know."

"Yeah," Mulder looked up at him under his lashes. "Nothing else?"

"No business, if that's what you mean," Not yet, anyway. He was still reconstructing the network, and it was hard to convince new people of the importance of the work when he was only one man without a substantial amount of money. You ever think of what you might've done, otherwise?"

"Me? Oh, probably a crazy professor with crazy conspiracy theories."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"What about yourself?"

Alex grimaced and shook his head. He had never been bound for the straight and narrow, never. "What's going to happen now?"

"We wait for our contact to send us word of what's next."

Alex snorted. "That seems shortsighted even for you. Scully must be pissed."

He was taken aback by the shadow that passed over Mulder's face. Taken aback, fiercely glad a second later, regretting his mean-spirited-ness a millisecond after that. Christ, he had to pull himself together, he didn't need to feel sorry for Fox fucking Mulder, who had cost him so very dearly. "She all right?"

Mulder blew out a noisy breath, shook his head. "She's fine. Working as a doctor, like her dad always wanted."

"But..."

"She's made for greater things."

Alex had to laugh. "Jesus, who the hell are you to be the arbiter of God's will? Being a doctor isn't good enough for her? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I could say the same thing about you," snapped Mulder, getting back to his feet. "The difference is I think of just one person, you want to change the entire species."

"We're never going to agree on this, Mulder. In fact, let's just agree to disagree and go our own ways," said Alex, staring at the tv as if Mulder wasn't in the way. 

Bored with the sports recap of the game, Mulder started flipping through channels settling on, of all things, the QVC home shopping network. It was in English, and soon had Alex both horrified and fascinated. He tipped the end of his half-full bottle towards the tv. "How can they talk about nothing for so long?"

"Worse than being on a stakeout."

Alex snorted in disbelief. "Speak for yourself."

Mulder's brows jotted up and down. "You think this is better??"

"Hell yeah. I can get up, get a snack, walk around," Alex eyed Mulder suspiciously. "Seriously, you liked stakeouts?"

"I like talking to people."

"Yeah, right."

"You don't think I like talking to people?"

"No, I think you like talking _at_ people, there's a difference," Alex corrected, because Jesus, Mulder was clearly fucking insane.

"You didn't mind it that one night."

Alex froze, bottle to his lips, wide-eyed. 

"You liked me talking, that one night. After Scully was taken."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Mulder chuckled. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. But don't think I've forgotten."

God intervened with the trilling of the cell phone. Mulder bounced up to answer it, leaving Alex to the memory of what they had done in the car. His task had been to bring Mulder in, of course, which he had ultimately failed at doing. By any means possible, and with Scully gone and Mulder grieving and deeply depressed, Alex had taken his instructions to mean exactly what they said, and had acted accordingly. Getting attached wasn't really done in the trade, but fucking Mulder was the kind of character that had people swarming to his side, offering to heal his wound with their bodies. 

Alex had not been immune. 

The next day it had been like nothing had ever happened, which was really goddamned rude - okay, maybe he was still pissed at Mulder about that. Ridiculous, to still be so affected after all these years.

"Right, we're leaving," said Mulder, heading down the hall. 

Alex pumped his fist in the air, splashing some beer on to his hand. He licked it off, set the bottle down on the coffee table. Thank fuck he didn't have to drink any more of it. 

Mulder came back, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. "We're catching a flight out, so we've got to head to the beach. We'll be dropped off in Nevada - "

"Y'know they closed Area 51, right?" quipped Alex, delighted to see Mulder's flash of irritation in return.

"After that, you're on your own."

"I'll take whatever you want to give me."

The Diaz Pena's stumbled into the living room, rubbing their eyes and, apart from the Major, looking worse for wear.

"Are you certain about this, Agent Mulder?" asked the Major, glancing at Alex with no small amount of wariness.

"Yeah. Let's go downstairs, there's a car coming," at the looks on everyone's faces, he continued. "I know it's not ideal, but it _is_ our best chance."

Hell, Alex would go even knowing it was a setup. The closer he got to the border, the better off he would be. Besides, given what had happened the last time Mulder had left behind, Alex wasn't above playing the 'poor, one armed me' card. Mulder felt guilt like no one else, and Alex was more than happy to use it to his advantage when necessary.

The phone rang once, and Mulder nodded. "Let's go."

Let's go, fuck yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped this ticked all the boxes, Mimm!


End file.
